All Things Macabre
by sincerely -your stalker
Summary: It's Harry Potter's first year at Hogwarts, as it is for Draco Malfoy and Nadia Macabre. With a Ravenclaw that acts more like a Slytherin, one can only imagine what chaos and calamity come of this.


Hello, my loyal audience! On second thought, my loyal audience consists of about... two, as of now, unless sincerely -your stalker (aka stalker) has a stalker. Wow, that just opened up a whole can of paradoxes...

Yes, this is centered around an OC, but before you groan, it's not that bad. She's pretty much going to be a spectator or an instigator, not so much on the participation. Yet. And no matter how much the contrite voices in my head tell me to, there is no way I will pair her with any of the other primary characters(Draco, Harry, Hermione, Ron). It's too cliché. Never. Maybe a secondary or another OC...

Disclaimer: Sooner or later, I'll find an occult ritual (read: heaps of money) that will transfer the Harry Potter trademark to me, but until then, I shall cower in fear of a lawsuit. I retain the right that Nadia Macabre is my mindspawn, as well as Mallory Clarion, Ophelia Magdon, and Chiamaka Nzeako.

* * *

Ron's enthused explanation of Quidditch was interrupted when the compartment door slid open. Three boys entered. One was a pale blonde-haired boy, flanked by two hulking nondescript figures. The blonde boy looked at Harry intently. 

"Is it true? They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?" The boy said.

Harry replied, "Yes." His gaze was fixed on the rather brutish-looking bodyguards stationed on either side of the boy.

"Oh, this is Crabbe, and this is Goyle." Apparently, he had noticed where Harry was looking. "And my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."

Ron snickered, masking it poorly with a cough. Just as Malfoy was about to retort, a girl walked in. She was considerably tall, even more so than Crabbe and Goyle, and her eyes seemed to hold a gleam in them behind her glasses. Her black hair hung in wavy locks down her back.

"Draco, I've been looking everywhere for you! Well, not everywhere; I'm not stupid enough to go looking under the train, and actually, I've only just started looking for you. Hm, fancy that, I guess I haven't been looking for you everywhere, but you get the gist, right? Although I do wonder sometimes if you're all that bright. I mean, you can be at bit slow at times. And you've never once beaten me at mumbly—"

The girl was cut off by Draco. He glared at her. "Shut up, woman! Can't you see I'm in the middle of something?"

The girl blinked. "That I see. What are you going for, a Mexican standoff? Then again, none of you know a lick of Spanish. Or is it a Western standoff? But then it wouldn't be a standoff, it'd be a showdown. But the lot of you doesn't have guns, and I doubt any of you can even cast a proper spell. But I digress. Why are you in here?"

Ron stared at the girl, mouth agape, and Harry scratched his head in confusion. "What? Mexican showdown? I have no idea what you just said... and I think you broke Ron." He poked his friend a few times for good measure. "Yeah, definitely broken."

She grinned sheepishly. "Sorry, have a tendency to do that." She pulled out her wand, waving it and pointing at Ron, and muttered, "_Enervate electra_, you idiot."

Suddenly, Ron shot up with a yelp. She smirked, "Gotta love electricity. By the way, I'm Nadia Macabre. Nice shocking you, Weasley. And hasta luego to you, Señor Potter." Nadia turned to Draco. "Since you were obviously having some male-bonding time, I'm sure you've made a new set of friends. But you can talk to your friends later. Right now, we're going to my compartment for Nadia-bonding time. And we also need to feed Crabbe and Goyle, isn't that right, pumpkin?" She patted Goyle's head affectionately.

Draco had been pinching the bridge of his nose the entire time, saying, "Please don't let her be in Slytherin, not Slytherin..." over and over. When Nadia addressed him, he just sighed to himself and told his childhood friend, "Lead the way."

- / -

When I got onto the train, the first thing I did was find a compartment full of first-years. As soon as I had all of my things settled in, I proceeded to scare off the little buggers. I know, I'm a first-year, too, but seeing the things shuffle off in terror is just so amusing. Perhaps I'm a sadist. At least it works for some careers. You don't see Pacifist Stan running a large corporation, now, do you? Anyway, when the compartment was finally empty, I sat down and dug into Hogwarts: A History. I was waiting for Draco to show up. I knew he'd find his way to me. I mean, he wouldn't be able to resist following the trail of terrified runts. It's just his nature. A bit of a Schadenfreude-mentality, you could call it. But after an hour of reading about the paintings of Hogwarts, there was no sign of the Malfoy, and I was starting to get anxious. _He couldn't have gotten lost, could he? Or maybe he's doing something. Think, think, what would Draco do? Skip around the maypole? Pfft, sure. Probably a guy thing, definitely something stupid. He's probably picking a fight, isn't he?_ I sighed. Draco didn't handle unfamiliar situations all that well. Scratch that, he was _horrible_ with new situations. He adjusted by being overly aggressive and just being a prat in general. Of course, when he was in his element, he was aggravatingly arrogant. Little prick. It reminded me of when we first met.

We were both about seven or eight years old at the time. We were at a big social picnic, all the most prestigious wizarding families were there, which meant that the Malfoys just had to be there. All the kids got shoved off to a separate area to "let the adults talk." At the time, I was quite the perceptive little child. Well, really, all my family was rather intelligent; I was just the one who could guess people's thoughts eerily well. Being brighter than my other fellow children, I concluded that the adults wanted some time to be childless again. Ha. Adults and their wild imaginations. After coming to this conclusion, I plopped onto the ground and tilted my head in thought. If you've ever seen me in full thinking position, you'll know it's a sight to behold. It's basically me, sitting cross-legged with my arms crossed as well, cocking my head to one side and closing my eyes. If you see it, you'd think I was a mental ward escapee, especially since strange things seem to pop out of my mouth when I'm thinking. But back to the point. As I was contemplating how to spend my afternoon, a little blonde boy came up to me. He tried to kick me, but I caught his leg and twisted it so I was behind him.

"You, stupid. Don't interrupt me when I'm thinking." I said tonelessly into his ear.

"Let me go!" He struggled fruitlessly.

"Fine." I let him go and surveyed him blankly. His clothes were clean and pressed, and not a hair out of place. _Pretty boy_, I thought. "So, humor me. Exactly why did you find it necessary to assault me? Or rather, feebly attempt to?"

He snorted. "You sound like some old fogey professor. You're not even older than me!"

I glared down at him. Yes, even as a child, I was freakishly tall for my age. "No, but my father is 'some old fogey professor.' Shows how much you know. Stupid inbred Malfoy."

"Hey! I'm not inbr—"

"Yes. You are."

"No, I'm not!"

"When people with the same last name marry and reproduce, generally, it's called inbreeding, as shown by the Malfoy family. Inbreeding also muddles the brains quite a bit, which you clearly exhibit."

He was silent. "... I'm not inbred."

I raised an eyebrow. "Ok, little inbreed. Let's just say you _aren't_ inbred. Why were you stupid enough to try and kick me?"

More silence. "... I'm Draco. What's your name?"

I blinked. Then blinked again. "Nadia Macabre. So, are you as bored as I am?"

"Yep."

"Then have a seat and chat."

"That, I will."

And that was how we became friends. When I look back, I remember he never actually told me why he was bothering me...

I stretched and stood, dusting off my robes and adjusting my glasses. I left the compartment and started skulking through all the other compartments, asking if anyone had seen a blonde prat. When I passed through the prefects' compartment, some red-haired twit had the nerve to try and scold me. ME! As if I couldn't ensure a long and painful retribution. Well, being short on time, I just whipped off my glasses and stared him down. Usually, my eyes look more purplish. But when I take off my glasses, they're a much more eerie blood-red. It's quite fun, really. You should hear the screams I get when I do that in the dark. Anyway, he kind of made an "eep" sound and turned away. Serves him right. Damn uppity prefect.

After searching for a grand total of five minutes, I started back in the other direction. As it turned out, Draco was two compartments down from mine. If only I had started in the other direction. As I listened outside the door, I knew there would be trouble as soon as the Weasley boy laughed at Draco's name. _No one_ can get away with that, save for me. I had to step in. As much as I loved to see him riled up, trouble could wait for when we got to school. At least then, they'd be able to use magic properly.

When I was inside, I mentally slapped my head. I had no idea what to do to mollify the situation! Well, when all else fails, shoot off your mouth and run like the dickens. So I started to ramble. I think I said something about a Mexican standoff... When Potter said something, I snapped out of it.

I grinned sheepishly. "Sorry, have a tendency to do that." I waved my wand. "_Enervate electra_, you idiot." I was a bit peeved about the name thing. The right to mock Draco is reserved to _me_ only! Ron shot up with a yelp. I smirked, "Gotta love electricity. By the way, I'm Nadia Macabre. Nice shocking you, Weasley. And hasta luego to you, Señor Potter." Back to Draco. "Since you were obviously having some male-bonding time, I'm sure you've made a new set of friends. But you can talk to your friends later. Right now, we're going to my compartment for Nadia-bonding time. And we also need to feed Crabbe and Goyle, isn't that right, pumpkin?" I patted Goyle's head. Despite the fact that the two clods are practically the same, I still prefer Goyle over Crabbe. He's got a daft little spring in his step, and so thoughtful! Last Christmas, he gave me a rock he found that looked like one of the Weird Sisters. Surprisingly, it looked a lot like Verdandi. I still chucked it out, but it's the thought that counts. "Left, right, left, right, off you go. And Draco, would it kill you to smile?"

He gave me a long-suffering look. Apparently so.

I grinned and hugged him. "Aww, I love you, too." He reddened and tried to push me off, to no avail.

"Get off, Nadia! Leave me in peace!" He continued the futile struggle.

I only held him tighter. "Fighting it will get you nowhere. I'm like a tumor, I grow on you and then you become affectionate towards me. Don't fight your heart's desire!"

Draco looked at me, eyebrow raised. "You're not supposed to be affectionate to tumors. And what do you mean, my heart's desire?"

I looked at him in mock bewilderment. "You mean, you don't name yours? We all know your heart's desire is to bow to my feet and serve my every whim."

He chuckled. "Well, you've got the ambition of a Slytherin—"

"—But the brains of a Ravenclaw—"

"—The Gryffindors can keep their bravado—"

"But it would be hell to be none of the above!" We both chimed, and then burst out laughing. It's an ongoing joke the two of us have about the Hufflepuffs. We were debating about houses a while back and settled on the two facts that Gryffindors are walking hazards, always "doing the right thing," and Hufflepuffs are gomers. And not the hospital kind. Although they do bear a striking resemblance.

After our brief bout of laughter, we settled into our seats, contented for the time being. About half an hour into the long train ride, I turned to him. He was half-asleep, so I thought this to be as good a time as any. I had to shake him a bit before he would stir. Aren't you _not_ supposed to shake babies? The same principle applies with Draco except he's not quite as cute as a baby, so there's no guilt involved with the action. Hm.

"Draaake... wakey wakey, I've got questions," I singsonged. He groaned and shifted.

"Do it tomorrow... leave me alone," he mumbled.

I glared. "Don't make me sing. And it will be an _incredibly_ irritating song, too."

"Nooo... I'm listening; ask away," Draco said, his eyes still closed.

"Ah—" I had to think for a moment. Darn my short-term memory loss! It will be the end of me someday... or at least screw me over really badly. "Right. What possessed you to be so daft as to pick on Potter? _The_ Harry Potter!"

"I agree completely. That girl needed a good duffing-up. You were totally in the right," he droned and turned away from the window.

A pause. "Wait, which girl?"

"The one from Madame Malkins."

"Ha! There was no girl there! You weren't listening to me at all!"

He scoffed and turned to me. "It isn't my fault if you're not interesting. Why obsess over Potter? Becoming a fangirl?"

"As if. You know me, I would never do that. I think—no, I _know_ you're jealous." I propped my head on my hands, triumphant.

"Eh. Blondes have more fun," Draco said carelessly.

I coughed into my hand, poorly disguising an "Albino!"

Glare. Honestly, you'd think he'd be used to the insults by now.

"Well, if you would change your hair, maybe you wouldn't look like an albino. What's your best color, green? Brown might suit you..." I trailed off tapping my comb on my lip.

"I'm not an albino and you're not getting anywhere near me with That Comb. The last time you tried it, the blue wouldn't come out." He eyed the comb warily, a slight tic emerging in his left eye.

Why such a fear of a comb, you ask? It was a _magical_ comb, much like everything else around here. The magical part, not the comb bit. Being a magic comb, it had the power to enslave humanity and raise the living dead! Or change haircolor, your choice. As he mentioned, Draco had experienced the horrors of "That Comb," he dubbed it, with a capital "C." I don't remember how, but somehow this summer I managed to get ahold of Draco long enough to turn his hair blue. A nice navy blue, too. Heh, he couldn't get rid of it for a week. It's a shame, blue suits him. Since then, he hasn't let me anywhere near his head with That Comb. Such a baby.  
I paused. "...Wait, why are we talking about your albinism? I was asking you about Potter."

"It wasn't Potter I went after, it was Weasley. And I only went in there to offer my—_friendship_ to Potter. Perfectly innocent. And I don't have albinism."

"There are a few things wrong with your argument. One, _you_ don't _offer_ friendship. You strangle them until they finally give. Which makes you more like a tumor than I am. Two, the Draco Malfoy that I know is never innocent, there's just never enough evidence to implicate with. Three, the sight of your ghastly, pasty face refutes your denial of albinism. Even if you weren't, the pale blonde hair adhered to your skull says otherwise." As I listed off the holes in his logic, he started making faces. Hm. Almost like he was mocking me. But that's impossible... right?

I started with a gasp. "What—what is this feeling? It's as though I'm being insulted and in the most juvenile way, as well. I feel the urge to exact retribution on the source. But where is it? Draco, help me find this cur so that we may unleash unmitigated fury upon them!"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Oh no, whoever could it be?"

I posed valiantly. "Not to fear, fair princess-boy! I am able to smell insolence within a mile radius. Our charge shall be swift and merciless!"

"Sure. Have fun with that." And with that, he poked my head. Right in the middle of my dramatic pose, too! Attention hog. This action (of jealousy at my insolence-senses) led to me—I really don't count this as one of my best moments—tipping over and crashing to the ground. Yep, let it said that my balance isn't exactly superb. One could even venture to call it akin to pathetic.

Oh well. At least I got him back with the "princess-boy" comment. Although I think the only reason he didn't say anything was because I called him "fair."

- / -

Shuffle. Jab to the back. Turn. Jab in the eye. Heh, serves them right. Shuffle. Bump to the shoulder. Grab. Hoist. Toss. Splash. Point at Crabbe, smile innocently. Hop. Face-plant. Glare. Sulk.

That's pretty much how the boat ride went. To clarify, I was moving through the crowd to a boat, someone jabbed me in the back, I jabbed them in the eye. I kept going, my shoulder got bumped, I picked someone up and threw him into the water, then blamed Crabbe. I got to a boat, hopped in, fell, and sulked the whole ride. In my defense for the tossing the kid incident, the people in the crowd had been annoying me for quite some time. I'm sure lots of other people did the same thing.

Sorting. Let's see, I should be right in the middle in the Ms. Time for a snooze? Eh, sure, why not?

Mmm, nice. Whoever's robe I was resting my head on was soft. Oh, it's some round-faced boy. Why did he have a toad? No matter, sleepy time...

I awoke with a start. Apparently, it was the toad-boy's turn. I wonder what his name is? I'd have to find out so I could thank him for giving me a shoulder to rest on.

"Gryffindor!" Or not. Those Gryffindor-types were always helping others.

"Macabre, Nadia!" Oh, joy. It was my turn to be a spectacle. I sauntered over to the stool. No big deal, just don the ratty hat, which happens to have touched the filthy heads of hundreds of children for hundreds of years... I eyed the hat suspiciously. It'd better not have lice in it. Gingerly, I placed the hat on my head.

_Please, no lice, please, no lice..._

'Well, what do we have here? It seems we have yet another Macabre at the school.'

_If this takes too long, I'm ripping off the hat and going to Beauxbatons. I think I can feel the mites in my hair already..._

'Very well then. I see a great deal of intelligence and cunning. This would make for a very promising career in Slytherin...'

_Eh, been there, done that, got the t-shirt._

'Apparently, there is a reluctance to follow ambitions. And what's this? You value and protect those close to you. I can see you prospering in Hufflepuff. Yes, I think that you should be in—'

_What? No, no, no, that's not going to work out. See, that would make me the butt of Draco and I's joke. And that would be bad. Very bad._

'Why?'

_Well, let's see, besides the obvious emotional and psychological trauma, that would create an undesirable type of attention. Imagine me in Hufflepuff. I'm not the "help a stranger" type, so I would never fit in. Let's face it: self-inflicted ostracism is better than being shunned by peers. Am I right?_

'Introvert. I have just the place for you.'

_Hey, I'm not intro_—

"Ravenclaw!"

"Yippee!" I tore off the hat and pranced—I mean, stalked, yes, a proper stalk—over to my designated table. "Hello, compatriots! I bid you salutations!" Crickets. Well, I could tell this is a lively bunch. Sigh. Not even one wave of contempt among them. I need my daily allotment of contempt, or else bad things happen. Hey, Draco had just gotten sorted into Slytherin, big surprise there. Note sarcasm. Hm, his table seemed like a despicable bunch. I wonder...

Yes! As soon as I plopped next to Draco, I got angry and suspicious stares. Angry _and_ suspicious stares! And I think one of them may have been sharpening a dagger! Ahh, these are my kind of people... I must get a dagger like that, maybe in amethyst or sapphire. Perhaps opal?

I suppose I don't mean to gravitate towards the odious type, but generally, they have more to offer business-wise. And you must admit, it does keep the reflexes sharp, constantly dodging stabs to the back. Whoosh, thunk. See, that's what I'm talking about. The dagger I saw earlier just landed in the spot my hand was in. Reflexes, reflexes. I was now the proud owner of a very beautiful, ornate ceremonial dagger. I was thinking of displaying it proudly on my rucksack as a prize of war... or perhaps in a leg holster? Choices, choices.

Yawn, so tired. Pigging out in a refined manner really takes a lot out of you. But I manage, what with my superiority to others in every way.

I shuffled along with my fellow Ravenclaws to the dormitories. Ooh, look, it's my name on a plaque. I knew the world would finally recognize my unique brand of genius. Oh, wait, there were others with it. Did I have understudies? I was pretty sure it was a one-man show. Mallory Clarion, Ophelia Magdon, and Chiamaka Nzeako. Nope, never heard of them... Of course! They must have been the loyal followers that spread my message to the world! For that, I supposed they should get a special mention, but really, next time, their names shouldn't be the same size as mine. It makes it seem as though we're equals. Shudder.

... Never mind. They were just my roommates. I guess my fame and accolades would have to wait for another day. I had to sleep soon, I was getting dizzy. But first a check list for tomorrow.

Stuff to Not Procrastinate On:

-Feed Goyle

-Harass Draco (note-maybe plant something in his food)

-Blame Crabbe

-Plan world-house-year domination (note-work up to the first two)

-Work on Project SuperBook™

-Practice evil laugh (note-ask Draco for help)

-Burn Sorting Hat (note-or at least replace it. I am certain it's infested with doxies or some such disgusting thing)

-Find classes

Ah, that's better. And it's in order of priority; after all, a girl's got to know what she wants. Still, sometimes I wondered if I had my priorities straight. Could harassing my favorite albino be more important than feeding Goyle? Nah, that's ridiculous. My judgment is always sound. Ooh, giant yawn, I was going to sleep now. Right now. Or now. Now. Now... Now? Yes, n— Snooore.

* * *

Like it? Hate it? Want to talk about your cat? Let me know... or the review button gets it. -evil laugh- 

Also, I'd like to know if I should turn this into more of a diary affair. Over time, it started to feel like a journal to me when I wrote it. Some of this stuff may be a bit better or clearer in a journal format.

Don't forget to review and save the review button from imminent death!


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